Baby It's Cold Outside
by Pikeru's Angel
Summary: Based off the song by the same title. High school AU. Shohn pre-slash. John didn't know how, but somewhere between his leg hurting and icy grey eyes, he ended up staying the night. Kipping on the chair, of course.


"Well, I better get going."

John smiled at his project partner. Sherlock Holmes, that was his name. He was the new kid at school. Wealthy family, living with his brother who had a high position in the British government (so they said). He was also the most desired student since the moment he walked through the door. Tall, dark, and overall mysterious with piercing grey eyes that broke hearts in and instant. He had girls and guys alike swooning as soon as he entered the room. John was the only one unaffected. Or he pretended to be. He was, quite firmly, bi, and even if he wasn't he suspected that he would still have a small crush on Sherlock. This was worse, much worse, and now they were paired up on a project for science.

The shorter teen walked for the door, books clutched firmly to his chest (his backpack had been burned in a small garage fire and he'd yet to get a new one) when Sherlock stepped in front of the door of the small apartment.

"Why don't you stay, John?" He asked, seeming to not notice John's blush at the close proximity. "I'm sure you won't be able to catch a cab in this weather, and the busses aren't running. My brother should be back in the morning and you could borrow the car."

A deep scarlet spread across John's cheeks, he could feel it, and he took a half-step back. "No, it's fine." He said quickly, voice raising an octave. "I can walk."

Sherlock loomed ever closer, grey eyes shimmering with an odd icy blue tinge. And God, John could feel himself melting as that smooth baritone continued.

"It's really no trouble. I don't use my bedroom anyway." He flashed a brief grin, warm and sincere and the exact opposite of the ones he gave the teachers when he corrected their "idiot" mistakes.

"I-it's fine!" John said, but he couldn't focus because those cherubic lips were so close and oh so tantalizing…"I r-really can walk!"

The taller man tutted gently, like one would to a slow child. "You leg's been bothering you from when you hurt it playing rugby." He said. "The cold will only irritate it more." He motioned back to the couch, and the fireplace really was tempting…

John smiled weakly, taking a few steps back in to a nearby end table, nearly knocking over a rather expensive looking vase. He turned sharply, grabbing the vase just before it hit the ground. Luckily there didn't seem to be anything in it. He winced slightly as he stood back up, placing the vase back on its proper place. Maybe the other teen had a point about his leg.

He turned around, glaring and trying not to focus on the space just above Sherlock's shoulder. "A few hours." He said through clenched teeth, trying to keep up the façade of being upset. "Just until it stops raining."

Sherlock chuckled, walking back to the couch and falling into it gracefully. "It's not raining anymore." He drawled. "Actually, it turned to a blizzard about a half an hour ago."

John sagged slightly, finally going over to the adjacent chair. He plopped down, sighing. "Thanks," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Within minutes he was asleep.

{][][}

The smell of tea is what woke John up in the morning.

It took him a minute to get his bearings in the unfamiliar surroundings. He was on a chair, that much was apparent from the crick in his neck and back, and he was moderately sure there was a blanket over him. He wasn't home, because his parents were out and Harry didn't drink tea, just alcohol. A friends, maybe? No, none of his friends would have let him kip on the couch. They weren't really that close.

Finally, he opened his eyes and immediately knew where he was. Only one question remained.

Why in the living _hell _was he in Sherlock's house?

"I hope you slept comfortably." A posh voice to his side said, and there was the sound of a mug clinking on wood. "Although I rather doubt it. The roads have been cleared, and Mycroft should be home soon enough."

John blinked at the younger teen, blindly reaching for the hot cuppa. "Go' i'," He muttered sleepily. "Th'nks for letting' me stay here." He took a sip from the tea, moaning in pleasure. "This is good."

Sherlock nodded, taking a seat on the couch as the sound of footsteps could be heard going up the stairs. "Earl Grey. It's the only kind Mycroft will drink." John nodded.

"Ah. All right then."

The door opened, revealing who John assumed was the elder Holmes. He was tall, probably nearing two meters, with a solid build. Dark hair was slicked back and he twirled the umbrella in his hand aimlessly, like it had become automatic. He raised one thin eyebrow the second he saw John on the couch. Sherlock gave him an annoyed look in turn, and John was caught in the middle.

"Friend, Sherlock?" Mycroft questioned. The younger sibling scowled.

"No," he ground out, getting up and grabbing the mug from John's hand. "He is not. He couldn't get a cab and the busses were running."

Mycroft nodded, his eyebrow going ever higher. "I see. Is he the one you always talk about? I have to admit, he is rather-"

"Shut up, Myke!" Sherlock hissed, face twisting in a deep scowl. John blushed, standing up and grabbing his books from where they'd migrated to the table. He was almost thankful that Sherlock had interrupted whatever Mycroft was going to say. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what Sherlock thought of him.

The blond cleared his throat awkwardly, making for the door. "I'll go." He nodded, putting on a rather false grin. "Good to meet you, Mr. Holmes."

And he left, thinking vaguely of how his sister was going to kill him for not taking that golden opportunity.

{][][}

**A/N: Based off of this youtube video. http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com(forward slash)watch?v=qTRb5t3yQhE Damn little plot bunnie.**

**~Piki :B**


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